


The Writing on the Wall

by Arkenn



Category: RWBY
Genre: Character Death, Graphic Description, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 18:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5938390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkenn/pseuds/Arkenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cinder finds herself floating on the surface of death when her carefully laid plans fall apart at the seams. She is no longer in control of even her own mortality as she finds herself being quietly and deliberately mauled by some monster. Her consciousness remains to taunt her in these final moments, even as a Beast of Grimm puts a fine point on the list of her accomplishments. (One-Shot)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Writing on the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> A one-shot to go along with the end of Howling at the Moon.

A young woman stands at the bottom of a lake, embraced by death. She is drowning with her head held high and her eyes dim and lifeless. A short time ago she ran with a mix of fear and adrenaline that had her flying through the night like a sparrow, flitting this way and that in her confusion. Her wings were now clipped as blood leaked from her neck and soaked her dress, the river of blood unperturbed by the murk. If she could see, she would have seen nothing but a gray, some taupe-stained white. The shoulder for her head to rest on in these final moments, a final rest before she fell into the heap clawed hands were holding her up from. She was, in some small fraction, aware of her passing. She was being kept alive, just barely, as she was bled out on the scene.

A weak mewl escaped her mouth as the jaw that reached from her breast to her spine clamped deeper, just slightly, enough to restrict her already shallow breaths. It was cruel in a way, that she would die with such indignity that she be reduced to silent sobs in the end. Not even in control of her own consciousness, rogue thoughts and intent still hammering about in her mind while her brain floated in lead.

Taking her death into her hands she tries to twist her neck to see past the milky darkness, hoping that instead of her captor she would see some sort of… Sign. That this would be over soon, that her broken legs and arms would be soothed in death, that someone might distract the beast for long enough that she could twist and tumble, snapping her own neck in the fall, something to bring an end to this drawn out conclusion. This hanging note on the requiem.

Her plans had fallen apart at the seams. Carefully laid things, charted over the course of half a decade and jockeyed with the care that one might lead a foal on a trot. It had all been executed perfectly, from the first moments to the climax, her prize within reach if she had just reached out for it a moment sooner. But then the shadow fell, her comrades with it, and she was trapped. And now, she was here. Helpless, tired, grasping around the monster that was letting her suffer for the thrill of it. Her flames had not done more than brush it, her lightning glanced over its skin like mist on a pond. She had been for the very first time in her life truly and completely without recourse. For a moment, through her pride, she may have felt respect for a monster so incredibly banal about it, as if the very elements were nothing more than a child's fancy.

She felt weight on her feet again, and dull pain responded, chasing its way up her spine. She couldn't do anything to hold herself up, her body too drained and too weak to prevent the fall. As she collapsed the teeth came free, shearing through her flesh without moving, tearing a thick gash through both her chest and her back. She despaired that she was so far gone that she couldn't feel it, and now, face down in a puddle of her own blood, sipping air through the corners of her lips, she wondered whether she _could_ die. If the world had some cruel way of punishing her, if the power of two maidens was enough to keep even her corpse afloat in the pool of death.

She felt pressure on her side as she was rolled over onto her back, her eyes heavy-lidded. She felt the imperious gaze on her and smiled. The Beowolf, this Beowolf, it _knew_ what it was doing. She could hear the shuffling as it lifted a foot and brought it to rest on her chest. _It knows, just as well as I do, that I should already be dead._ The weight shifted against her chest until her lungs could gasp no more air from around her, until she felt blood rising in her throat. _And it won't risk me bleeding out._

A low growl, and the full weight of a 2000-pound beast came to bear on her. Muscle and bone gave way, and she sunk deeper into the darkness with a smile. In the corner of her eyes she saw the same necklace the girl had worn before she died, a tooth looped in sinew. It was as if some vengeful angel had descended on her, her mind swimming with the joke that a robot of all things would have the most successful revenge after death. She would die here; she knew that much. The Maiden's powers would find another, perhaps. Maybe they'd be lost into the maw of the Monster. Either way, Cinder Fall was dying tonight.


End file.
